Glimpses of the Island

Overtime

Luisa looked at the clock, 4pm on a Friday. They weren't going to have the project report ready in the next hour. She and her supervisor, Kurt Goeren, were the only ones in the tiny technical proposals office. Under normal circumstances it could wait until Monday, or they could even work a few hours over the weekend. But this particular presentation was the centerpiece of the company president's sales pitch, a report he needed tomorrow afternoon in his hotel room in Asia, before the next round of presentations. To close this contract would mean bonuses for everyone in the company and plenty of consulting and support work in the future.

She turned away from her workstation and looked at Kurt. He was standing at the table next to her, assembling pages and graphics. "We aren't going to make it," she said, the undertone of frustration making her statement sound angry.

Kurt stopped and turned toward her. She knew he was originally from Switzerland, though he had been on the Island for several years. In typical Swiss fashion he seemed unperturbed at the imminent demise of both their careers. He glanced over her head at the clock on the wall. "There is time to finish. The report will be ready for transmission tomorrow morning." His words were slow and precise, as if he carefully picked each one from a list. His English was colored by the barest hint of that flat accent, the trademark of the German dialect spoken in the Swiss Alps.

"I can't. I have three hours of editing left, plus proofreading. And you know I have to report to the dormitory after five. There's no way I can get it all done." It's the rules , Luisa thought. Work ended at five, then ten minutes to report to the dorm supervisor for evening assignments. It seemed like each moment of her waking day was regulated in some way. There was a company policy for everything, at least for trainees.

"One moment," came Kurt's clipped response. He went into his office and picked up the phone. She couldn't hear what he said, but he came out a moment later. "It is arranged. We have as much time as we need to finish."

"You got an extension? But I thought we needed it by morning!"

"The deadline has not changed. We will continue working as long as is needed. You will not report to your dorm until our project is complete. I have authorized overtime for you. Please continue with your editing." He turned back to the table and resumed his sorting.

Luisa turned back to her screen and resumed typing. As simple as that , she told herself. I'd be in all kinds of trouble if I were a minute late, but he can brush it aside with one phone call. Each evening, in the little free time they were allowed, she had been writing down every instance of how unfairly women were treated, both in the company and on the Island. Men ran this society; men controlled every aspect of a woman's life here. They made all the rules and had all the power. It was like returning to the Stone Age. Maybe they didn't drag their knuckles or carry around clubs, but men like Kurt were the essence of the Neanderthal caveman. He hadn't even bothered to ask if she would mind working late.

At least she had been able to get her articles out. There was a regular mail service, though she had to get someone to help her with the Saudi riyal stamp denominations. There was no island postmark; everything went by ship to the Saudi post office at the port of Jeddah first. Apparently all mail to certain addresses in Jeddah came back to the Island in the same way. The arrangement was that her editor would hold the stories until she returned or in case something happened. If he didn't hear from her after thirty days he would run the stories and do his best to publicize her disappearance. That was as close as she could come to some kind of guarantee of her safety. If her secret was ever discovered she had a bargaining chip for her freedom.

She concentrated on the report. The living conditions might be horrific, but her job proved to be fascinating. As a technical writer she was learning new concepts virtually every day. All the intricate planning that went into something as simple as a road or a bridge amazed her. She had pictured civil engineers as the flannel-shirted beer-swilling cretins who lived only to cut down age old forests or bulldoze orphanages between trips to the local redneck bar. Working with them, even the most obnoxious ones like Kurt, had shown they spent more time minimizing negative impact than actually building the project. Even the document she was now editing had provisions to add expenses to the pipeline they were bidding on, costs incurred by avoiding a significant historical bazaar district and mosque in some small village in Azerbaijan no one outside the country had ever heard of. She still couldn't reconcile the imperious assumption these men had about getting their own way with the care and foresight they put into their work.

And why did it seem she was the only woman in the company who even seemed to care? She didn't understand why her female co-workers seemed so happy. Her dorm roommate in particular was a good example. Luisa had tried to bring up the way the Island held down women, but her attempt went nowhere. Instead she got a lecture on how wonderful the place was and how her roommate would never dream of leaving.

She had been so busy that she didn't notice when 5pm came and passed. She did stop fifteen minutes later when the hall door opened. A company security guard stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand. He looked at Luisa first, then to Kurt as he came out of his office. "Good evening Mr. Goeren. I need you to confirm the overtime authorization. Could you sign here?" He held out his clipboard. Kurt took it and signed. "Thank you. Do you have a specific time when you plan to stop? Someone can come by to escort her to the dorm." The guard nodded toward Luisa.

"That will not be necessary. The time is indefinite at this point. I will see to it she is delivered to the dorm area when we are finished. Good evening." Luisa watched him dismiss the guard in his usual brusque manner. She watched as Kurt headed back to his desk.

Great , she thought, dinner in the dorm is at six, no exceptions, and no way I'm going to be done by then. Looks like I go hungry tonight too. Not that Kurt would care, for him nothing mattered but getting the job done. That was something else that distinguished the men here, a sort of single-minded determination that took over once they decided to do something. No matter what, or who, got in the way , Luisa reflected. Through his open door she could see him at work on his computer, oblivious to the rest of the world.

The interruption over she continued with her editing. The writing was difficult and time consuming, but by seven p.m. she was done. Files saved, she stood up and went to Kurt's door. "The documents are edited and collated. Should I go ahead and print the final draft?" The report was in color and lengthy. It would take at least an hour to print the full proof copy with text and graphics.

"One moment," he answered. He typed in some commands at the keyboard while she stood waiting. Naturally , she growled silently, the whole world waits for Kurt to finish . He stared at the screen, clicked on something, then nodded in satisfaction. "Yes, please start the proof job." He didn't even look up at her as he issued his orders. She went back to her workstation, started the print run, and then finished by checking the color printer for ink and paper. An hour to print, followed by the proofreading. If she was lucky she could beg a snack off someone in the kitchen before going to bed.

As the printer warmed up she heard Kurt talking. Looking through his door she saw him hanging up the telephone. The first page started to feed through the printer. She noticed he opened his desk and put something in a pocket. It was shiny but from the angle she couldn't make out what it was. He came out to stand next to her as the printer slowly composed and spit out each page.

"Do you like Chinese food?" The unexpected question caught her off guard.

"Why, yes I do. An egg roll would be heaven right now. I'm starving."

"There is some time before the printing is finished. I have made reservations at an excellent restaurant within walking distance, one where I have often dined. Is there anything you need to take care of before we leave?"

Luisa wondered if he had to work at being so irritating, or if it came naturally. He didn't even bother to ask if she'd like to go to dinner. She couldn't pass up a chance at a real dinner though, especially when she was so hungry. There was one small detail he seemed to have overlooked. "I was told I'm not allowed to leave the building unless I'm escorted by authorized personnel. I don't think I'm supposed to go out for dinner."

Kurt nodded, "yes, that's correct. However, as your supervisor I am one of those authorized personnel. It is permitted within your guidelines to accompany me to dinner to discuss business. You are welcome to call the dorm if you would like to confirm it."

He was too meticulous to make a mistake about something like that. Luisa didn't need to call. Even if he were wrong she wouldn't be held accountable. She didn't really want to talk about oil pipelines over dinner, but Chinese food was tempting. All she had to do was clench her teeth and count to ten every time he said something, hold in her temper, and stuff herself with rice and steamed veggies. It would be nice to get out for a while too, even if it was only for an hour. "In that case I'm ready. I checked the ink and paper so there shouldn't be any problems."

Kurt went to the hall door and held it open for her. She took one last look at the printer before he shut the door. He gestured toward the elevators. "We will let the machines do their work. I have every confidence the report will be done on time. Now we will take the time to relax at the end of the work day." Luisa wondered if his odd way of speaking had to do with being Swiss or if it was unique to his personality. He seemed to make it a point to be formal, polite and aloof. She was used to the U.S. office style, where co-workers were informal and often friends outside of work. He pushed the elevator button for the lobby. When the car arrived he held open the elevator door for her.

In the lobby he steered her toward the receptionist counter rather than the front door. At this hour a security guard sat behind the counter. "Good evening Joe," he greeted the elderly guard.

"Hi Mr. Goeren, working late tonight?" His eyes lingered a moment longer on Luisa as he recognized her company uniform. "Good evening Miss, are you with Mr. Goeren?"

Kurt spoke up before she could answer. "We are going out for dinner but will return later tonight. List it as discretion of supervisor." Joe nodded, wrote something down, and then handed Kurt a clipboard to sign. "Thanks Joe. How did Manchester do yesterday?"

"Over Arsenal by two, looks good for a cup this year. Enjoy your dinner Miss." Luisa heard the buzzing as the front door unlocked. Kurt took her arm and led her to the front door.

Outside he pointed down the street, "we go that way." In the distance Luisa could see a neon sign in Chinese characters. "Joe Bardeen is an interesting character. In his younger days he played English football before joining the company and still follows the football clubs. He retired from the company board of directors a few years ago. When his wife passed away he had too much time on his hands, so he asked to return in some minor position. Now he's the evening security guard on weekends. He chose to work late so people wouldn't recognize him."

Luisa wondered at the kind of man who would willingly go from the top to the bottom of the company. Kurt talked about him as they walked along the sidewalk. She could hear the respect and not a little awe he had for old Joe.

It didn't take long to reach the restaurant. Inside he shook hands with the host and said a few words before they were seated. A waiter brought menus for the two of them.

Outside the sign had been in Chinese only. She was afraid the menu would be in Chinese too but on opening it found the names and descriptions in English. Some dishes she recognized but others were unfamiliar. She looked up at Kurt.

He must have noticed her puzzled expression because he launched into an explanation immediately. "The style of cuisine here is what's called Szechuan, from northern China. It's hot and spicy, mostly meat dishes. The chef does prepare some southern dishes for those who aren't accustomed to food that bites back." He smiled and Luisa laughed. That was the first time she ever heard Kurt make a joke. He pointed out the items on the menu that she might like.

After she told Kurt her selection he signaled the waiter. She was about to speak up when he gave the waiter first her order then his own. Count to ten , she told herself, same old Kurt, he won't even let me order my own food. She watched the waiter leave before turning back to Kurt. She was startled to see him watching her intently.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. His stare made her feel self-conscious. She looked down at her company uniform blouse and skirt, no stains or wrinkles, nothing out of order.

"No, nothing wrong," he answered. He folded his hands on the table before continuing. "Tell me, you know about the history of the Island, the type of people who choose to live here?"

She answered immediately. "Yes, of course. We have to attend classes after work hours. They cover the Island, the proper roles for men and women, that sort of thing." Proper roles indeed , Luisa thought, more like indoctrination . Most of her articles had dealt with those lectures and what the women here were being taught. It was textbook male oppression. Not just virtual slavery but the real thing. She remembered that first day she had seen a woman with the collar around her neck. At the time she thought it was some odd type of necklace, until one of the lectures had explained its true meaning. Ownership , the word made her skin crawl. She still didn't understand how those women put up with it.

Then she found out she wasn't exempt from that oppression. The employment contract she signed under island law made her a ward of the company for the one year term. It made no difference that she was an adult. The company now had the right to exercise complete control over her life. Everything was regulated now, where to live, what to eat, the clothes she wore, even the movies she was permitted to watch. She couldn't leave the building on her own. The very first lecture had stressed that compliance with company procedures wasn't optional. It was the law of the land.

That was the main reason she had to tolerate Kurt and his domineering attitude. If there had been a way to escape she would have left at the earliest opportunity. But no matter what crazy plan she came up with, there was no way to get off the Island. It had to be by ship, and there was only one port. She might be able to make it to the entrance, but it was impossible to get past the port guards. It had been so easy on arrival, but leaving was another matter. In order for her to book passage someone from the company, some man she corrected herself, had to escort her all the way to the ship and present the forms and permits allowing her to leave.

Kurt continued. "This is the plan for the evening. We are going to have a pleasant dinner, then return to the office. I will proofread the final copy. When we are finished with any changes I will take you to your dormitory." He paused while reaching into a pocket in his jacket. He took out something shiny and metallic, carefully setting it on the edge of the table next to his plate. When he took his hand away she recognized the object he had taken from his desk, handcuffs.

"When we are finished with dinner, you will stand up, turn around, and put your hands behind your back. I will then place the restraints on your wrists. You will not be permitted to take them off, nor will you be allowed to ask for their removal. There will be no discussion on the matter."

Luisa stared at the gleaming metal cuffs on the table. "Why…" she stopped. No discussion meant just that. She couldn't ask the reason why. Her eyes jumped from the cuffs to Kurt's face, back and forth. What was he doing? Given her status, or lack of it, she had no doubt he had the authority, but there was no reason for it. She had been cooperative, no matter how much he aggravated her. If she had broken some company rule it was one she didn't know about. This isn't fair; he has no right to haul me back to the office in chains. And even if he does have the right, she had to concede that point, it was the Island, there's no justification for humiliating me in public .

Before she could say anything else the waiter brought their food. The interruption gave her time to recover her poise. The waiter placed the bowls of rice, meat, and vegetables on the table, deftly avoiding the cuffs next to Kurt's plate. Though he must have noticed them he made no comment. Of course , Luisa realized, it's nothing new to him. He probably has a set at home too . The waiter finished serving by placing a small wire frame cart of sauces in the middle of the table.

"Please, help yourself." Kurt said, reaching for a bowl of fried rice. "If you like soy sauce, I suggest you try that one on the end, the extra dark one. The light colored soy sauces are used for dipping, use that small bowl to pour some out for this garlic chicken. This bowl with the red in it is called Kung Pao, you might want to take just a little taste before you put some on your plate. It's very hot. The red vegetables are actually peppers. Here's the rice, put the vegetables on top." He handed her the bowl of fried rice.

She grabbed the bowl and held onto it tightly, to conceal the shakiness in her hands. Reaction , Luisa realized, I'm scared . She held the bowl of rice steady with one hand while scooping out some onto her plate with the other hand. She tried to put the cuffs out of her head but her eyes kept coming back to them, sitting on the edge of the table. Never in her life had she ever been arrested. She had never worn handcuffs, or even seen them close up. Her worst criminal offense had been a ticket for running a red light. She looked up to Kurt, who seemed to be oblivious to her distress.

Somehow she managed to get the food onto her plate while avoiding the Kung Pao on Kurt's advice. The first bite told her this was Chinese food unlike anything she had ever tasted before. Distracted, she looked at what was on her plate.

Kurt must have noticed the expression on her face. "It's really very good, isn't it? That's why I try to eat here often. I know the chef, Lee Fu Bai. The food is authentic as he's from northern China himself, Manchuria, close to the Russian border. Did you happen to notice the name of this place?"

A mouth full of food, Luisa shook her head. There was no English translation for the Chinese characters on the sign or the front of the restaurant.

"Well, Fu wanted all the ethnic Chinese to recognize the place and remember his name, so he ordered the neon sign to be made in Chinese. It's difficult and expensive to make the characters though, so he had to shorten it. The original plan was to call it Lee Fu Bai's Manchu Dining Room, but that was cost prohibitive. So he shortened it…to Fu's Manchu."

Luisa had to grab her napkin to cover her mouth while laughing. Kurt grinned as he kept talking. "The first time Fu translated for me, he couldn't understand why I started laughing. I told him all about Sax Rohmer and his stories featuring the villainous Dr. Fu Man Chu, constantly thwarted by Nayland Smith. Fu liked it, so he kept the name. He even tried to grow that famous Mandarin moustache once."

All through dinner Kurt kept up the conversation, talking about himself, how he came to the Island, and his boyhood in the Alps. He would pause from time to time, allowing Luisa to get in a few comments. At some point she realized the stiff, formal Kurt at the office was a real charmer once he relaxed. He was witty, intelligent, and had a dry, deadpan sense of humor that was all but extinct these days. His stories were simple but revealed a man who looked at life as something to be enjoyed every moment. He was talking about growing up in Switzerland.

"During my college years we had to take our military service during the summer. As you probably know, all able-bodied Swiss men are enlisted in the reserves. For my training I volunteered for the bicycle regiment. It has been disbanded now but was still in force at the time."

Luisa nodded, "I've heard of it. The Swiss Army was the last major country to still use bicycles."

"That's true. We were told it was to be prepared if there was no fuel for cars or trucks. We could move quickly to defend strategic points, faster than troops on foot. Our training was to practice that kind of maneuver. It might have been a good idea, but it didn't work too well. In the morning we would gather at a town, load up our bicycles, shoulder our rifles, and ride off to save the bridge in the mountains. Country roads are not too good though, and the bicycles were old. An hour later most of us had flat tires.

"We wanted to stop, but the lieutenant said no, in a battle we would have to keep going. So we passed through small villages clattering on our metal rims, making an awful sound. So loud that many of the farmers offered to take us the rest of the way in trucks. The sound was bad for the cows, they would say, it will make holes in the cheese." Kurt finished his story and took a bite of food.

Luisa laughed again and shook her head, holes in Swiss cheese. She should have seen that one coming. She looked across the table at her dining companion with newfound respect. Except for that dictatorial attitude he'd be the kind of guy she'd want to spend a lot of time with. Oh my god, I'm on a date , she realized, and having a good time too . Now she was suspicious. Had he deliberately waited till the last minute, so they would have to work overtime? So he could get her alone? Whether it was coincidence or conspiracy, she was still enjoying the dinner and his company. It was a welcome escape from the dorm and the never-ending rules and lectures.

She began to notice small things about him. He was telling her all about himself, but not asking questions. When she spoke he listened but did not try to dig deeper into her background. It was almost as if he was selling himself to her, while trying to be non-threatening at the same time. She felt no pressure to talk about herself, a remarkable change from past dates she had been on. No innuendos either. Not a single sexual reference, no off color jokes. Usually by now her dates would be hinting at the rest of the night, but not Kurt. He finished another one of his stories, making her giggle uncontrollably.

He leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. "A fine meal seasoned with the laughter of a beautiful woman. What more could a man ask for in life?" He signaled the waiter for the bill. "But we still have our duties to attend. The report awaits our return, and I must see to it you are returned to your dorm safe and sound. It is time to go back to the office." He stood up, looked at Luisa, then slowly and deliberately picked up the handcuffs.

The world shrunk to the steel bracelets in his hand. Listening to his stories she had forgotten all about them. As if she were a detached observer she saw herself push back her chair and stand up. She stepped away from the table, looking into his eyes before she slowly turned around. She could see the door to the street and the cashier, as well as other customers at tables. In slow motion her arms moved of their own accord, behind her back. His hand took hold of her right arm first, positioning it. The cool touch of the steel against her skin had an almost electric feel as the cuff closed on her wrist. She heard the ratcheting sound a second time as the other cuff closed on her left wrist.

Staring straight ahead, not daring to move, she expected to see people pointing and whispering. A few diners looked up momentarily but otherwise ignored her. Even the waiter said nothing as he pushed in her chair against the table. No outraged demands that she be released, or even a question as to what was happening. It isn't unusual , she thought, I might as well be putting on my coat . She felt Kurt do something to the handcuffs, and then he was at her side, a hand firmly grasping her upper arm. He gestured toward the cash register by the front door and indicated she should head that way by pressure on her arm. She followed meekly.

He paused at the cashier's counter to pay the bill. Before he let go of her arm Kurt scrutinized her face, looking for any sign of distress. Luisa felt as if she were floating, not actually in her own body. She watched as Kurt counted out the bills. She vaguely remembered she wasn't allowed to handle money, another company rule. If she wanted to buy something for herself, she had to ask permission first. Someone would purchase it for her and deduct the amount from her company account.

While the cashier made change she tested the handcuffs by trying to pull her wrists apart. A few inches and no further. They felt loose but she couldn't slip either cuff off past her wrist. She couldn't see what they looked like but her fingers brushed against what must have been a keyhole on each cuff. Kurt finished and took hold of her arm again. With his free hand he opened the door, gently pushing her forward. She walked through the door ahead of him. He never let go of her arm.